One Broken Wing
by grassyhyuuga
Summary: A collection of Neji-centric drabbles.
1. Aftermath

Neji was not awake when his sensei entered the room.

Guilt and regret scuttled over his face like beasts on alien terrain. Perhaps years of spending time with Kakashi had rubbed off, building to this moment of failure. Gai had never been one to dwell on the past and what couldn't be changed, but his mind had other plans and shuffled leisurely through his inadequacies one by one.

By the time he did wake, there were tears.

If they weren't quite as exuberant as Gai's usual waterworks, he pretended not to notice and bore the careful hug without stoicism.

* * *

There was an ancient saying, adopted wholeheartedly by the Hyuuga:

'Family affairs should not be aired in public.'

The rough texture of this particular type of tatami bit through his leg bandages and into his skin.

As he met the eyes of each clan elder, jaw hardened by casual defiance, a part of him trembled.

No one had ever dared defy this particular maxim, so a tide of whispers had swept up after his match with Naruto — how would he be punished?

Muscles tightened, unconsciously bracing themselves for pain.

None came.

Neji met the eyes of his uncle last and knew if it were not for him, he would be writhing on the floor. A certain truth fluttered through the stagnant air.

He saw Hizashi in Hiashi.

How much of Hizashi did Hiashi see in him?


	2. Firsts

The first time he lost to Lee, they didn't quite know how to react.

Gai-sensei stood, unusually still, eyebrows quivering. Tenten kept her gaze on the trunk of a tree. Even Lee himself swallowed and took a small step back as if expecting his teammate to explode in a blast of Hyuuga pride and hair.

Neji blinked the shock out of his eyes and moved forward. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't siphon any measure of anger from that dark pit in his gut.

The smirk was a blend of haughtiness and grudging admiration.

"Best two out of three?"

* * *

It didn't matter how the rice had gotten there. (In fact, neither could even begin to imagine how the rice had gotten there.)

What mattered was that a grain of rice was lounging on the eyebrow of the Hyuuga clan patriarch.

Stomach taut with suppressed laughter, Neji averted his eyes, knuckles pressed to lips. Across the table, Hinata shaded hers behind a curtain of hair and bit down on her chopsticks.

For the first time in years, they shared a moment.


	3. Moments

He paused, gaze caught by a blur of movement.

Painstakingly, slowly, he crouched. With the same steel-bound control, he extended his hand.

The cat watched him with all the wariness of a world-weary and oft-kicked creature. Suspicion lurked in its eyes, tempered only by curiosity.

Closer, closer.

Its tail flicked once — the only warning — and Neji snatched his hand back with a barely audible hiss.

"Why did you do that?" She yanked his arm to inspect it under the streetlight. Her touch was gentle yet the words were as sharp as any of her kunai.

He shrugged, barely registering the pain as she prodded at the scratches. For a moment, he had seen himself in its bristled fur and torn ears.

"It was only scared."

* * *

Quiet moments like these were rare.

Arms looped around bent legs, Neji and Tenten sat. Some distance away, their sensei and teammate submerged identical bowl-cut heads in separate buckets, looking like human arches.

Self-satisfaction tugged at the corners of their mouths. Breath-holding competition — one of their best ideas yet.

"Do you think they'll still be like this in…" Her voice was hushed, as if she was afraid to break the sheet of calm blanketing the air. "Ten years?"

Without missing a beat, he replied.

"Yes." The thought should have terrified him, but it didn't, not really.

"Twenty?"

Someone gurgled, but he couldn't tell if it was Gai or Lee.

"Yes."


	4. Growth

In the days before his forehead was marked, Neji was a quiet, happy child.

He liked going for runs with his father and feeling proud of himself for keeping up. (Hizashi would shorten his strides and pretend to be winded.)

He complained about his hair, though he secretly enjoyed it when his father would brush his out with him at night. (_One hundred strokes, Neji, or you might go bald like Hikaru-sama._)

He worked hard at his stances, chubby jowls tensing with effort as he struggled to hold them better, longer, than the other children.

And, if shadows ate away at the edges of he and his father's world, he tried not to worry. After all, the Hyuuga are a clan of the sun. As long he listened to his father and opened the curtains each morning, everything will be fine.

* * *

Four words pour cement over his feet and turn the air in his lungs into acid:

"The dead are rising."

There is a collective stillness as ghosts of the past waft through the camp, visible only to grief-filled eyes. Hinata, after a few minutes of silent struggle, begins to flutter to his side. This startles him into action. He pretends not to see her as he walks in the opposite direction and ducks into the nearest unoccupied tent.

Inside, he studies a rent in the waterproof canvas. Sunlight worms its way through the small tear — he reaches out to catch the beam as if he is three years-old again and sat on his father's lap. It slips through his fingers before spilling to the floor.

Focusing on taking even breaths, Neji realises he doesn't know how he would react on seeing his father. The realisation, oddly, calms him.

He is okay with this uncertainty.

(Hizashi would be proud.)

* * *

**Notes**: I'm currently looking for a beta for this and other works. Please contact me if you're interested!


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